


Offering

by Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Crying, Grief/Mourning, Masturbation, Other, Rituals, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/Miri%20Cleo
Summary: Whether immortal or not, time has no meaning.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	Offering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlassesOfJustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/gifts).



Andy slipped away. Nile might worry, but the others probably expected it. She was too conscious of time now where it hadn't mattered before. It had slipped through her fingers, flowing around her like an endless ocean. It didn't matter how much there was because it was meaningless. And now, she knew trying to close her fist, to hold onto it would be just as meaningless. Time would flow no matter what she was. 

She knew she would never see old age. Death would come before decay because that was the life she lived. That, at least, was a mercy. The light that filtered down from the old growth trees around her was tinted green, and it was as cool as the moss underneath her palms. She remembered the druid temple that once stood here. Gods and magic were just realities interpreted through what people knew at the time, but that didn't give the places of worship they built any less power. This place of broken stones and twisted roots still held the power it had long ago when it was filled with soft chanting and the scents of herb potions. 

The alter still stood, cracked and chipped from weather and wear. It had been forgotten by the world, and the stillness of the place was a comfort to Andy. She slowly removed her clothes, piece by piece, with a reverence to time and to the earth itself. Nature was the oldest immortal of them all, and even she was losing her potency. 

Andy sat on the flat stone, raising her face to the canopy and closing her eyes as the sunlight dappled her cheeks. She breathed the moist air. She slowly laid back and spread her legs. The strength of the stone filled her body, and she cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers. The stone knew her. It had felt her body at a time when did not want for the touch of another. It had soaked up her sweat in an offering of anonymous sex, during an eclipse of the sun, no less. Andy had enjoyed the power of being the only one who had lived through such an astrological event before even more than the thrill of an anonymous body in harmony with her own, coming together surrounded by a circle of worshipers. 

Now, as she slipped her palm between her legs, desperate to feel, she offered her tears. Grief for her own immortality would have been shallow, pointless. But she could not help the desire to feel the fingertips, the breath of someone else one last time even when she knew this would do. Andy circled her clit with her fingertips as she remembered Booker's mouth, Quynh's touch. She mourned their loneliness--Booker's a sentence from her own mouth and Quynh's might as well have been. At least his would end quickly. Her tears slid from her eyes because she would be gone while they both lived on in pain. 

She came with a sob that died in the air as soon as it left her lips. Her offering was complete. The stone against her back would stand long after she was gone. But one day it would crumble.


End file.
